


i've been looking at the sky.

by frostfall



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Adopted Peter Parker, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Established Relationship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Minor Carol Danvers/James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Minor Happy Hogan/Pepper Potts, Non-Linear Narrative, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Superfamily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:07:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23855845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostfall/pseuds/frostfall
Summary: Tony’s memorial plays out the same way.Everyone comes by. Brings flowers and candles. Sets them down. Talks to Tony. Gives Steve a few hugs, and Peter a million more.Steve doesn’t need their comfort. Their condolences. He needs his husband back.(Tony sacrifices himself for the universe. Steve and Peter try to deal with the fallout.)
Relationships: Peter Parker & Steve Rogers, Peter Parker & Steve Rogers & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 68
Kudos: 250





	i've been looking at the sky.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spideyee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spideyee/gifts), [petitestark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/petitestark/gifts).



> This fic is basically a huge AU where Steve and Tony got married and adopted Peter as their son but the events of the MCU play out the same way except Steve remains in the present timeline for obvious reasons. 
> 
> Title comes from [Back In Black](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pAgnJDJN4VA) by AC/DC
> 
> This fic wouldn't have existed if it wasn't for [spideyee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spideyee/) and [starkiron](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkiron/) who requested for a Superfamily moment based on [this clip](https://twitter.com/intrstllcr/status/1253631377272180738) in Defending Jacob. Hope this meets your expectations!
> 
> Huge thanks to [ishipallthings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishipallthings/) for helping beta this at the last second. You really came through with this. Thank you! 🥰💙

It doesn’t hit him when he first wakes up.

It’s still dark outside. Steve would’ve gladly returned to sleep if he hadn’t spent the past minutes, hours, rolling around restlessly.

So with a heavy sigh, he swings his legs over the bed frame and wipes the sleep from his face.

“FRIDAY?” he begins. “Is it—”

“Yes,” she replies, somber. “It’s October 17th.”

Steve nods and squeezes his eyes shut.

* * *

When it comes to grief, Steve isn’t a stranger. He’s watched every one of his loved ones leave him behind. His father to the bottom of the bottle. His mother at the hands of a ruthless disease. Bucky falling into the snow and coming back a ghost. Peggy lost to fate and time. Peter crumbling into ash because of Steve’s mistakes. 

And now Tony.

With his track record, Steve should’ve been prepared. Should have steeled his heart for the inevitable.

Tony has always found a way to surprise him.

* * *

Surprisingly, Peter’s door is left ajar.

Several sinister thoughts swim through his head but Steve squashes them all down immediately.

The covers on the bed are balled up in a bundle. Steve doesn’t need to pull the covers over Peter’s head to know that he had been crying.

“Peter?” he murmurs, giving him a little shake. “It’s time to wake up.”

The bundle stutters but doesn’t respond.

“We’re gonna be late.”

Nothing.

“Don’t make me do it.”

Again, silence.

Steve heaves a dramatic sigh. “Alright. You asked for it. FRIDAY?”

Familiar guitar riffs begin to fill the air. For a moment, Steve lets himself drift away. Imagines that they’re down in the workshop, Tony’s hips swaying as Peter throws his head back in laughter, the bots whizzing around them as Steve captures the whole thing in—

The bundle wiggles and then unravels.

“I’m up!” Peter exclaims, tossing the covers aside. I’m up. I’m—” He freezes, his eyes meeting Steve’s.

His eyes. His cheeks. They’re red. Swollen.

A shadow falls over his face. “Oh.”

Steve tries to keep the smile on his lips. He’s not the only one pulled out of a memory.

“Yeah.”

* * *

The sky is clear tonight. The stars dance overhead, bright and sparkling.

Just like all those times before, they settle down onto the grass, their arms wrapped around each other.

“You know, I always wanted to go to space,” Tony remarks.

“Really?”

Tony nods, humming. “There’s so much to see. So much to explore. Learn. Understand.”

There are various feelings playing on his face, a mix of sadness and anger and hope and wonder. Under different circumstances, Steve would’ve captured them on paper.

“But you know. After everything…”

The hope and wonder slip off his face. Steve itches to bring it back.

“Maybe we could do that,” Steve says. “After we bring everyone back. We can take a trip. You. Me. Peter.”

Tony turns to him, smiling gently. “I’d like that.”

* * *

Breakfast is uneventful.

Over the years, Steve’s learnt to cook. He could even say he could make a decent omelette.

But Peter goes straight for the Cocoa Puffs and the carton of milk and Steve doesn’t really have the strength to object, to even put anything inside him. So he brews his usual cup of coffee and sits by the island.

Steve can imagine Tony in his ear, lecturing him about how _Our boy is still growing. He’s literally going through puberty. What the fuck, babe—_

“Hey, dad?”

Steve lifts his head up.

“Did you pick the flowers yet?”

“Yeah,” he says. “I did it before I came to wake you up.”

Peter blinks. “Oh.”

Steve purses his lips. “But uh… I think my arrangement is terrible.

Peter cocks an eyebrow. “You want me to arrange the bouquets? Me?”

“Hey, I might need a second opinion.”

“But you’re the one who planted all of them.”

“That doesn’t mean I know how to arrange a bouquet.”

Peter chuckles, a glimpse of joy on his face. “True. Okay. After I’m done with this.”

* * *

He remembers the days, weeks, months after vividly.

He remembers the slamming doors, the anguished cries behind walls,

One morning, Peter locks himself in the bathroom. Steve pounds on the door, crying, begging, screaming at him to open the goddamn door because Peter needs to eat and—

“I can’t do this without you,” Steve whispers to the ceiling.

Yet again, he doesn’t get an answer.

* * *

They go to Natasha’s first.

Since her body couldn’t be retrieved, they hold a memorial for her at the Compound.

It’s fitting. It’s where she’s given her heart and soul to the team. To the universe.

Steve lays the bouquet down among the countless others. Compared to the rest, they pale in comparison. Then again, Peter and him aren’t florists.

He feels like crying. Feels like telling her photograph how much he misses her. How much Peter misses his second favorite aunt.

Somehow he can’t.

A part of him is glad for it. If she saw him breaking down, she wouldn’t let it go.

 _Going soft on me, Rogers?_ she’d tease him.

He lets out a quiet laugh, earning him a couple of odd looks.

Steve shrugs them off. She wouldn’t want him to be sad anyway.

* * *

When Steve sees Tony and Peter reuniting on the battlefield, his heart swells. When Peter bounds over towards him, clutching Steve like a lifeline, his heart swells even further.

Right there, Steve lets hope brew inside him. Right there, he lets himself imagine how they could finally be a family again. The family they’ve always been meant to be.

But when he sees Tony falling to his knees, his gauntlet gleaming, Steve knows he should stop deluding himself.

* * *

When Steve hands Sam the shield, Sam flashes him a soft look and says, “You should do something. Take up a hobby. It’ll help.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “What makes you think it does?”

Sam grins. “Trust me. It does.”

* * *

Tony’s memorial plays out the same way.

Everyone comes by. Brings flowers and candles. Sets them down. Talks to Tony. Gives Steve a few hugs, and Peter a million more.

Steve doesn’t need their comfort. Their condolences. He needs his husband back.

* * *

“Good morning beloved,” Steve hears him whisper into his ear, his breath warm and comforting.

He turns on his side, reaching ahead to pull, hold, kiss—

He grasps air.

 _Oh, right_ , Steve thinks. _He’s dead._

* * *

Peter loves Steve. That’s a fact.

It’s why he screams and shouts. It’s why he bangs his fists on his chest and collapses onto the ground. It’s why he throws his father out of his room.

“Dad might’ve loved you,” he hisses. “But I don’t. Not anymore. I wish it was you. It should’ve been you.”

Steve knows Peter’s saying these things just to rile him up.

“You’re not the only one who thinks so,” Steve says and leaves before he says another stupid thing.

* * *

There are parades and festivals and gatherings and parties. Celebrations supposedly celebrating the sacrifices made in restoring the universe.

Steve declines to attend all of them. No one fights him on it.

* * *

“Do you think,” Steve begins, “he’ll forgive me?”

Tony pauses, his shirt halfway up his torso. The scars on his chest are almost gone. “Of course he will.”

A lump forms in his throat. He shuts his eyes and tries to swallow it down.

“I forgave you, didn’t I?”

* * *

After a couple of good weeks, he finds Peter crying over his Chemistry homework.

“Is it bad?” Peter whispers. “That I’ve stopped thinking about him all the time?”

“No,” Steve says, pulling his son closer to his chest. “It means we’re healing.”

* * *

When Tony is laid into the coffin, Steve makes sure he’s buried with his wedding ring on his finger and Steve’s dog tags around his neck.

It’s not like Steve plans on loving again, anyway.

* * *

Steve and Peter spend the whole afternoon down in the workshop.

The bots are glad for the company, happily playing along with Steve and Peter.

“We should get pizza,” Steve says, fishing his phone out of pocket. “Usual order?”

“Please just order the pepperoni,” Peter says exasperatedly. “Dad’ll be rolling over his grave if you get pineapple with it.”

Steve rolls his eyes, a wisp of a smile on his lips. “Alright, alright. For your dad.”

* * *

First, Steve builds a greenhouse next to their home.

It takes weeks. It’s all he does when he isn’t trying to coax Peter out of his anger. He turns away every offer of help.

When it’s ready, he buys seeds. Growing plants. Succulents. And as he waits for them to blossom, he buys a table. A couple of chairs. A shelf for books and a chessboard.

He hopes Tony likes it.

* * *

“Peter doesn’t want you there. I’m sorry.”

Bucky shrugs nonchalantly. “Don’t blame him. I’d feel the same if I were him.”

“Buck—”

“I know.”

Steve watches Bucky shove the rest of the doughnut between his lips. He hopes wherever Tony is, he’s swimming in them.

“But it’s still my hands, Steve.”

Steve sighs. “Yeah. I know.”

* * *

When all is said and done, Steve vows to give up the shield and spend the rest of his days with the two most important people in his life.

* * *

May drops by in the middle of their Star Trek marathon. For the first time today, Peter lights up.

“You did a great job with him,” May says hours later when Peter falls asleep, his head in her lap. “Thank you.”

“Have I?” Steve asks, watching her card through Peter’s locks.

She nods.

“If I—”

A gentle hand over his shaking fist quells him.

“Don’t,” she whispers, her voice quivering. “You’re doing what you can. You’ve kept Peter going. Kept yourself going for him. And that’s all that matters.”

“Tony—”

“Tony would’ve agreed with me.”

Steve inhales sharply, his eyes prickling. “Yeah. That bastard would have.”

* * *

When he dresses for the day, it hits him.

Tony’s still here in their bedroom. He’s in the wardrobe, on the bedside, on the covers. Haunting Steve.

Maybe one day he’ll have the strength to clear him away. But not today.

* * *

There’s someone speaking. Calling. Yelling. Steve doesn’t know what.

In the haze of his grief, Steve hears him.

“Come back. Pops. Come back to me.”

Steve lifts his head.

* * *

Every day, Steve curses himself for his mistakes. For all the wasted time.

All the times he could’ve spent curling up on the couch with his family. All the times he could’ve been burning the kitchen down with his family. All the times he could’ve—

He could’ve had more years, maybe decades with him. Them.

But Steve has always been an idiot.

* * *

Peter loves Steve but he loves Tony more. That’s just a stone cold fact.

* * *

One day, Peter drops by the greenhouse.

“Look!” Steve exclaims, grinning. He thrusts the pot of forget-me-nots towards him. They’re Tony’s favorite.

Peter glances between the flowers and Steve, his brow furrowed. Steve can’t imagine what he must look like now. His hair in disarray, his cheeks caked in dirt, his lips aching for grinning so widely.

He braces himself.

For the first time since that day, Peter breaks into a genuine smile.

* * *

Grief is funny sometimes. There are times when Steve refuses to get out of bed. There are times when Steve can go on about his day and be productive. There are times when Steve’s caught in between. 

There are times when Steve has to wake Peter from his funk. There are times when Peter has to do it instead. There are times when they’re both in or out of it.

Grief is funny sometimes. It’s why Steve hates it.

* * *

“Pops,” Peter says for the millionth time, pulling him out of his misery.

For the millionth time, Steve breaks down in his arms.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. Breathes. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I—”

Arms wrap themselves around his body. Steve stills.

“It’s okay,” they say. “I forgive you.”

* * *

Dinner is a quiet and awkward affair.

Steve doesn’t have the best relationship with Tony’s friends, especially after Siberia. But Peter had insisted on having them over. And Steve had relented, After all, they’re three of Tony’s closest friends.

Then, a breakthrough.

“What’s so funny?” Happy asks, eyebrow quirked.

Pepper shakes her head, covering her mouth as her body quakes. “No. I just… Tony would’ve hated this. Sitting like this. In the quiet.”

Rhodey rolls his eyes. “Oh god. Don’t get me started.” He turns to Peter. “Did I ever tell you what happened during his first defense proposal?”

Peter shakes his head, a twinkle behind his eyes.

That’s when the atmosphere changes.

They spend the whole night trading stories about Tony. They laugh and cry and smile and talk and Steve feels lighter than he’s felt in their presence in a long time.

Steve raises his glass. “To Tony.”

Everyone meets him halfway.

“To Tony.”

* * *

When the dust settles, Peter socks Strange in the jaw.

Steve pulls Peter away, kicking and screaming, shoving him into Rhodey’s arms.

Then he launches at Strange himself.

* * *

“Pops?”

“Yeah?”

Peter gnaws at his lip, flexing his fingers. “You know I didn’t mean— I didn’t—”

Steve pulls him into a tight embrace, and hopes it’s enough. “I know.”

* * *

They part on a light note, with hugs and pecks on the cheek.

“Don’t be a stranger,” Pepper says, squeezing his hand.

“I won’t.”

“Uh huh. That’s what you said the last time,” Happy says. “And then you ghosted Pepper and I for a month.”

“You were busy.”

“And so was Rhodey,” Pepper points out. “And I don’t see you ghosting him.”

“Hey. Don’t drag me into this.”

Steve rolls his eyes as he sends them on his way. Peter grins by his side. That’s good.

“Pops?”

Steve glances down.

Peter’s running through his hair, his eyes drifting everywhere but in Steve’s direction.

“I was wondering if you wanna hang out tomorrow. I’m free, you know. And I don’t have any homework and—”

“Of course,” Steve says. “Sure. We can, uh… We can go to the city and do whatever you want.”

A small smile graces Peter’s lips. “Okay. Goodnight.”

Before he knows it, there are arms wrapped around his waist and a head nestled in his chest. Warmth spreads through him, from head to toe.

Steve presses his lips to Peter’s temple and closes his eyes. “Goodnight, Pete.”

* * *

“If I die—”

“You won’t,” Steve snaps.

“If I _die_ ,” Tony repeats. “Promise me—”

“You don’t have to make me promise,” Steve says. “I’ll do anything for him.”

Tony nods. “I know. It’s just that… It was hard without you. He took it hard. And when he comes back—”

“I know,” Steve says. “But he’s worth it.”

* * *

“Tomorrow’s the day,” Bucky begins. “How’re you feeling?”

Steve glances up from his painting. It’s shapeless, swirls of red, gold, brown on canvas. But he knows what it is. What it’ll become.

“Not as good as I’d like to be,” he replies. “But I’ll get there.”

And that’s all he can hope for.

* * *

The sky is clear tonight. The stars dance overhead, bright and sparkling.

Just like all those times before, he settles down onto the grass and places a candle by his tombstone.

Steve doesn’t do much, only regales Tony on what he’s missing. Sam and Bucky’s constant exasperation with each other. Pepper and Happy’s blossoming relationship. The bets the team has been putting in regards to Carol and Rhodey’s odd tension. Clint’s kids. The Guardians’ misadventures in space. Thor. Bruce. The new additions to the team.

He also tells Tony of the progress Peter and him are making. That one day they’ll reach a point when they’re okay again. Without him.

It’s peaceful. Tranquil. Only the sounds of chirping crickets and running water fill the air.

It’s home.

He hopes Tony’s dancing among the stars, Natasha in his arms. Both of them happy and content. As they should be.

“I miss you,” he whispers to the stars.

He swears he sees a couple of them blink in the distance.

**Author's Note:**

> You can reblog this on Tumblr [here](https://kapteniron-archive.tumblr.com/post/616465061771378688/ive-been-looking-at-the-sky).
> 
> Come holler at me on [Tumblr](https://nethandrake.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/kapteniron). I'd love to hear what y'all thought! :D


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